


Heal my heart, quiet my pain

by AsphodeleSauvage



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Destiel - Freeform, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Romance, Sabriel - Freeform, Torture, post 13x17
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-24
Updated: 2019-12-01
Packaged: 2021-02-25 20:42:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,805
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21551668
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AsphodeleSauvage/pseuds/AsphodeleSauvage
Summary: "I'll take good care of you": this is what Sam promises Gabriel, when he swears to heal Gabriel's wounds - all of them.Post episode 13x17, "The Thing", after Ketch brings Gabriel to the Bunker. Goes AU after that.SABRIEL[Translation from my French fic "Guéris mon coeur, calme ma douleur".]
Relationships: Castiel & Gabriel (Supernatural), Castiel & Sam Winchester, Castiel/Dean Winchester, Gabriel & Dean Winchester, Gabriel & Sam Winchester, Gabriel/Sam Winchester
Comments: 7
Kudos: 75





	1. Save me

**Author's Note:**

  * A translation of [Guéris mon coeur, calme ma douleur](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14328807) by [AsphodeleSauvage](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AsphodeleSauvage/pseuds/AsphodeleSauvage). 



> Hello there!  
> Tonight, I felt the urge to translate a fic I wrote a long time ago, back when we first saw Season 13. English is not my mother tongue, so I'm sorry if there are any grammar mistakes (there probably are). Feel free to tell me what mistakes you see so that I can correct them.  
> (Sorry for my French followers who probably expected a new, French fic.)
> 
> Supernatural doesn't belong to me. 
> 
> Enjoy!

So that was it. Dean and Ketch had just disappeared into the terrifying world concealed behind the Rift between worlds. Sam raised his hand to his brow, feeling exhausted and worried sick. Would Dean come back? And Mum? And Jack ?

He tried to come back to the reality at hand with a sigh. He had things to do. He turned around only to find a sight just as painful as his thoughts. No miracle there either. Gabriel was still curled up on his chair, covered in blood, bruised, his eyes unfocused and shaking with fear.

Sam’s throat constricted painfully. During all those years, he had wished for their friends to come back from the dead, for all those who had sacrificed their lives to save the world or save the Winchesters’ brothers hides to return – Bobby, Ellen, Jo, Charlie, Kevin, even Crowley, and Gabriel, of course, Gabriel.

But not like that. Not like that.

Gabriel’s return was a miracle indeed. Yet, Sam had difficulty seeing it as one.

All the nights Gabriel had appeared, alive and well, in Sam’s dreams, he had never been in that state. It wasn’t even – Sam wouldn’t even have imagined that it was possible. Whether he hadn’t thought it possible to torture someone to that extent, or to break _Gabriel_ that much, he couldn’t say, but what he was sure was that it shouldn’t even be real.

Slowly, he walked up to Gabriel, careful to control his movements and to walk gently, yet audibly, ensuring that he didn’t come too quickly next to Gabriel and that he made no sudden gesture. Gabriel was so scared – Sam had to make no mistake. Gabriel needed to see Sam come in order not to be surprised. He also needed to get used to Sam’s presence, and to identify Sam as not being a threat.

He was the one who would take care of Gabriel, after all. Dean had left, and he wouldn’t have had the patience or the gentleness required to take care of the Archangel anyways. If it had been Castiel it would have been different, naturally – Sam wouldn’t even be able to get near the angel – but Gabriel? Sam would be the one to look after him. It was agreed upon, in a way. Dean hated Gabriel’s guts, anyways. Sam was the only one who had ever been willing to negotiate, speak and do business with the Trickter.

Sam knelt in front of Gabriel. He wouldn’t meet his eye, or maybe he was merely unable to do so. Still, he had done it, a few minutes before. When Sam had unstitched his lips, removing the awful threads that kept his mouth shut, one after the other ( _a mute Gabriel, that wasn’t normal, not at all )_ , Gabriel had looked him in the eye. At this exact moment, his look had changed. There had been so much expectation, so much hope shining in those eyes –

For a few moments, Gabriel had trusted Sam entirely and had seen something in him – something Sam distressingly hoped being able to do for him while still fearing he wasn’t up to the task.

“Gabriel,” he said softly.

Gabriel didn’t startle. That was a good sign. Sam had no idea what he had done to be deserving of that trust, coming from Gabriel, but he appreciated it nevertheless. It warmed his heart a little, even thought it shouldn’t. He was moved that Gabriel put so much trust in him, but – not like that, not in this kind of situation.

“Gabriel,” he said again. “I have to take care of you. Are you alright with that?”

No answer. Gabriel was rocking backward and forward, starting into the voice, his eyes a bit wild. Sam saw no curiosity in those eyes – not about his surroundings, or Sam, or even his present situation. That was what worried Sam the most.

What if Gabriel’s mind was broken beyond all hope?

Sam swallowed with difficulty, and then waited a few moments. His voice shouldn’t weaken – it should be warm and reassuring.

Perhaps he needed to start by introducing himself?

“I – Do you remember me? I’m Sam, Sam Winchester. I – We’re friends. I’m a hunter. We’ve met several times already. At the Mystery Spot, in TV Land, too…” Still nothing. “I’m your friend,” he tried again, hoping his voice to be benevolent. “I’ll take good care of you. You don’t have to worry, you’re safe here. No one will hurt you. We’re friends, after all.”

Sam didn’t know what to think. On the one hand, Gabriel had allowed him close, as if he had recognized a friendly presence in Sam. On the other, Sam wasn’t positive that Gabriel had any clue who he was, or if the name ‘Winchester’ rang any bell, or even if he could hear Sam at all.

However, he still had to take care of Gabriel.

“I’ll take care of you,” he repeated. “Right now, I’ll take you with, and I’ll treat your, er, wounds. I’ll need to touch you, OK?”

Still no answer. Sam mentally crossed his fingers for good luck, hoping that he wouldn’t traumatize his friends with what he was about to do.

He slowly put his hands on Gabriel’s arms. Gabriel jolted and backed down as much as he could, swinging his head back and forth, his eyes wild with terror.

Sam took a step back, trying hard to ignore the throbbing ache he felt at seeing Gabriel react that way – at seeing Gabriel so terrified by him.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” he promised. “I’m going to take care of you. I’m your friend –”

Sam spent a long time trying to calm Gabriel down, but Gabriel eventually let him put his hand on his forearm. He didn’t look reassured, not by a long shot, but on the plus side he wasn’t scared to the point of trying to run away from Sam. Or he was terrified enough to have decided that it was better to let Sam do his thing. This possibility broke Sam’s heart and he hoped with all his might that it wasn’t the case. Not that he could ever be sure of it, though.

Gabriel was so weak that Sam decided to support him all the down up to the bathroom. Gabriel could walk – Ketch had likely dragged the Archangel behind him, but obviously wouldn’t have extended his ‘help’ any further. However, he seemed to be in intolerable pain. Moreover, he looked less steady on his feet than he had been when Ketch had hastened him into the Bunker. Maybe he trusted Sam more than the hunter thought, in the end.

Walking up the stairs and through the rooms and corridors took them far too long. On second thought, Sam decided to give Gabriel the room next to his. He made a quick trip to his own room to grab a first-aid kit – as well as a second one, just in case – then led Gabriel to his newly allocated bathroom.

Sam sat him down on a stool, at a loss as to what to do next. In principle, he had to rid Gabriel of his clothes to bathe him. The clothes wouldn’t be a huge loss, given that Gabriel deserved way better than those dirty rags, but Sam had a feeling that stripping and bathing Gabriek was somehow off-limits, taboo. Asmodeus had probably tortured Gabriel. He had stolen his Grace, which Sam thought was a kind of angelic rape. The hunter didn’t have a clue what relationship Gabriel had with his body at the moment, or, frankly, what else Asmodeus might have done. He didn’t want to violate Gabriel’s privacy. Moreover, the mere idea of stripping down Gabriel was embarrassing.

But Gabriel really, really needed being taken care of. Praying for the Archangel to forgive him, Sam started the water running.

“I’ll need to remove your clothes to give you a bath,” he explained awkwardly. “I can’t clean you and treat your wounds without doing that – it could get infected. If you’re alright with that, um, let me know. Slap me, give me a death stare, or something, right?”

After all, Sam wasn’t even sure Gabriel was _physically_ able to talk. And even if he were, he might be mentally unable to do so.

However, when he got close to Gabriel and grabbed the hem of his robes or Chuck know what to call that thing, his eye’s met Gabriel’s. For an agonizing second Sam felt like there was someone there who understood what was going on, who let him do it. The second after that, that person had vanished away.

But there was someone, there _was_. Gabriel was here, somewhere.

Sam would do everything to heal him, to bring him back.

Removing the rags from Gabriel’s body took no little amount of time, both because Gabriel was incredibly stiff and did nothing to help Sam – thanks, Gabe, really – and because the blood had glued the fabric to the open wounds. It was a disgusting sight, and Sam had to cut out the material with scissors before gradually removing the shredded cloth. The action drew small guttural sounds from Gabriel’s throat along with blinks of his eyes that betrayed his suffering.

In the end, Sam managed to take off the whole tunic and – oh God. Gabriel’s whole body was covered with injuries. Not little cuts, no – deep, constantly re-opened wounds caused by all sorts of blows, torture instruments and spells; bruises as big as Sam’s fist; a few broken ribs, perhaps; a gigantic purple laceration on his abdomen; scars everywhere, that were less scars than half-opened scabs covered with dried blood, and – oh, Lord.

Sam wanted to throw up. Gabriel didn’t deserve that. Fuck, he wouldn’t even have wished that to Lucifer – so _Gabriel_? Gabriel, who maybe wasn’t blameless, but who had helped save the world, who cared about justice (albeit his own form of it), who loved his brothers and his father fiercely, who always had a joke to tell and a mischievous smile on his lips? Sam had had to deal with all four Archangels during his life and Gabriel was the best of them all, and by far. He didn’t deserve any of that.

A terrible doubt crossed Sam’s mind. How long had Gabriel been prisoner? Had he been resurrected lately – maybe with Jack’s help, or God’s or Asmodeus’ – or had he been a prisoner for _eight entire years_?

And they had never known – never suspected – never done anything to help...?

Sam remembered a time or two when he had heard _The Heat of the Moment_ on the radio. What if that had been a call for help coming from Gabriel? And when they had been thrown into the world of _Scooby Doo_? But no, that one was too recent and Gabriel’s Grace was way too weak to allow suck a trick, and they had found the culprit anyway.

But still, what if…

Sam closed his eyes for a second to pull himself together. That was then, and this was now. That mattered at the moment was to help Gabriel and give him his life back.

He helped Gabriel up then down the tub. The astoundingly obedient Archangel let Sam. The hunter began washing him as best as he could – lucky that Dean wasn’t there, because he wouldn’t let either of them forget that. Gabriel was surprisingly passive. He looked neither embarrassed, or angry, or anything at all, truth be told. He only looked absent, as if he had lost touch with reality. Sam wondered where his mind was wandering. Was it horrible to hope that Gabriel had just locked himself up somewhere in his mind where nothing could hurt him?

Sam had to leave the room to grab a bottle of shampoo, and when he came back, half-fearing that Gabriel had ran away or tried to drown himself, the Archangel was still there, inert, apathetic. Sam somehow felt like he was forcing Gabriel to do things, which was a very unnerving sensation.

“I, hmm, I went to get you some shampoo,” he explained rather awkwardly. He could have slapped himself with how ridiculous he felt. Gabriel probably couldn’t hear him, which made things even more stupid. “It’s, er, good shampoo. I mean, Dean always says that it gives me Disney Princess-like hair. So it should be alright? I guess?”

 _Disney Princess-like hair._ Holy crap, why was he being so stupid? He was so desperate to get Gabriel’s attention, to bring him back to reality and make him laugh, if possible, that he was ready to say literally anything. Before all that crap that had happened to him, Gabriel would have laughed to his face until the end of times for saying that. Right now, Sam would have given anything for Gabriel to laugh his ass off, though.

Against all hope, though, Gabriel turned his head towards Sam when he heard those words. Their eyes met for a second, and Sam had a feeling that, one way or another, Gabriel had heard and understood that Sam was taking care of him, that – Gabriel looked away once more. The moment was gone. Sam held back a sigh. He knelt behind the tub and began washing Gabriel’s hair as gently as he could, in the hopes of making him feel a little bit better.

Maybe that was only wishful thinking, but it was as if Gabriel was a bit more aware of what was happening. As if he knew who Sam was, and what Sam was doing, and was letting him do that. The hunter saw Gabriel close his eyes ever so quietly, as if feeling Sam’s massaging his scalp was pleasant. He had probably been imprisoned and tortured for months, maybe years. During all this time, there had been no one to take care of him, to extend a helping hand or to make him feel good. Ketch probably didn’t, if Gabriel’s terror towards the Brit was any clue.

So Sam did his very best. He wanted Gabriel to feel safe, encouraged, and loved.

* * *

After that, Gabriel’s wounds needed being taken care of. Honestly, Sam feared that moment, even though he knew it to be necessary.

He cautiously helped the Archangel on his new bed. Sam knew he was hurting Gabriel when he rubbed his wounds with a towel, when he made him walk, when he grabbed his arms, and the thought that he was inflicting such pain on Gabriel disgusted him. To get his mind off his guilt as much as to distract Gabriel from his pain – not that the Archangel was complaining, though – Sam talked to him all along.

“So, here’s your new room. Hope you like it?” What an idiotic question. “It’s just next to mine. Dean has one down the corridor, and Cas’ has one too, even though he almost never uses it. There are two other people who live here as well. There’s Jack, he’s – er –” Crap, how could he explain just who Jack was? “He’s a special kid we’ve taken under our wing. A good kid, really. There’s our mother too – she was resurrected… long story, I’ll explain it all to you later...”

Sam undertook the task of treating the injuries, while talking about this and that. He decided to not linger on the events that had transpired during the last eight years, lest he confused (or scared) Gabriel. He set on explaining where they were and what the Men of Letters Bunker was.

The wounds were too numerous to count, and all of them more terrible than the other. Sam had to alternate between all kinds of cures – treatments for the burns, all kinds of bandages, antiseptic, and stitches. Gabriel’s wrists and ankles were swollen, raw and a violent shade of purple because of the manacles and chains. His back was covered with burns and various cuts, several of which were seriously infected. Some ribs were broken, just as he had suspected. There also were numerous bruises, all shades of terrible from purple to black, and all sorts of damage.

What worried Sam most, thought, were the runic-like symbols that had been engraved on Gabriel’s skin, probably with a knife. They were hideous and must hurt like a bitch. Sam suspected that their function was to bridle his powers, effectively preventing him from using his Grace or healing himself or even calling for help.

Sam wasn’t sure what he could do about them, so he settled for the most basic care. They wouldn’t let him close them or sew them anyway; all he could do was worsening the situation. He would have to call Castiel for help. Rowena, too, might know something about that. If Crowley wasn’t dead, he could have helped as well. But of course, Crowley’s death was the very reason why Asmodeus was the new King of Hell. And if their prophet weren’t in a vegetative state – oh, but wait, that _too_ was Asmodeus’ fault!

Sam had no idea how long it took to take care of Gabriel’s wounds. There were so many – too many. He limited himself to locate them, disinfect them, and provide the proper treatment. He tried to touch Gabriel as gently as possible and to ignore Gabriel’s soft hisses. The Archangel wasn’t pushing him back, though, and wasn’t trying to get as far away from him as he could, either. For lack of any other sign, Sam decided that Gabriel was implicitly allowing him to carry on. The Archangel didn’t look too scared, except when Sam had to stitch his skin. It was to be expected, of course. Needles and threads to sew his skin once more... Sam decided to never stitch Dean’s wounds – or his – in front of Gabriel.

Eventually, only the facial injuries were left. Gabriel let Sam’s hands get close to his head, which surprised the hunter. The most astounding, though, was that Gabriel now seemed more or less aware of what was going on. His eyes followed Sam’s gestures closely. There was no fear in his eyes, but there _was_ something else, something strange Sam couldn’t quite put a name on.

When his task was over, Sam had to find clothes for Gabriel, because the Archangel clearly couldn’t keep wearing only a bathrobe and boxers.

“I – hmm – I’m going to find some clothes for you, alright?”

Sam thought he saw Gabriel’s gaze darken, but it must have been wishful thinking. Why would Gabriel be opposed to wear clean, warm clothes? Nudism was no therapy, at least not as far as Sam knew.

He hesitated quite a long time about what clothes to give Gabriel. Dean would probably be furious if Gabriel wore his, even though they would undoubtedly fit him better than Sam’s. On the other hand, it was Sam who had taken care of Gabriel. That was a connection they needed to pursue. Sam eventually settled down for one of his old sweatpants – the most comfortable ones he could find – and a warm, thick sweatshirt of his.

Putting the clothes on Gabriel was a far stretch from easy, even though Sam was under the impression that Gabriel was more willing than before. He still had to roll up the sleeves of the sweatshirt and the legs of the pants, which gave the whole situation a rather comical dimension. Yet, when Gabriel buried his hands in the sleeves and hugged himself and gave a little sigh of satisfaction, apparently enjoying the warm, clean clothes he had just been given, Sam no longer wanted to laugh. It was both sweet and terribly sad.

“I think you should get some sleep,” he eventually said.

Gabriel startled and looked at him with a terror that Sam failed to understand. Was he afraid to sleep? Maybe, come to think of it. Who could know what kind of nightmares haunted him in his sleep, or what tortures Asmodeus had inflicted in Gabriel’s dreams?

Sam made a mental note to kill Asmodeus. Painfully, if possible.

“Don’t worry,” Sam promised. He sat down next to Gabriel and smiled. “You’re safe here. He won’t come to get you.”

Gabriel was still staring at him. There was such a distress in his eyes that Sam had to refrain from crying a little, or smash Asmodeus’ face into dust – one or the other.

“I’ll stay here all night,” he promised. “Just right there,” he added, pointing at the chair next to the desk.

Gabriel seemed to ponder it, then he nodded. Sam helped him to lie down, then tucked him in warm blankets.

This would be a very long night.


	2. Heal me

“He’s at it again, isn’t he?” Dean sighed, handing Sam a plate full of food.

Sam took it, grateful. He hadn’t left Gabriel’s bedside in three days, except for eating, peeing and showering. “He seems to have calmed down this time.” He heaved a sigh and rubbed his head. He felt exhausted.

Gabriel’s state worried him more and more.

Gabriel was going through intense, alarming fevers. His wounds kept re-opening and human methods only had effects for a few hours. They had reached the point when they had had to call Rowena, asking her to research clear-cut ways to heal the Archangel – or ex-Archangel, Sam didn’t know. Castiel said that Gabriel’s Grace was in a disastrous state: it was weak, sickly, dying, and, according to Castiel, devoured from the inside by a sort of acid-like shadow. Cas’ had never seen that before, which was yet another cause for Sam’s worry – in addition to Castiel’s inability to heal Gabriel, of course.

Although Gabriel’s waking and lucid phases were just as worrying, to be honest. Gabriel was terrified – downright scared out of his shit. If anyone made too abrupt a movement or went up too close, Gabriel would whimper like an injured, scared animal begging them for mercy. He would shake and curl up against the wall, shielding himself with his emaciated arms.

It seemed as if Sam was the only one he allowed to come near him. It was for the best, seeing that Sam was the one to take care of him. Every day, he had to re-stitch, re-disinfect, and re-treat all the injuries. He still had to avoid sudden movements and sometimes, it took him a long time before he could finally touch Gabriel. It was still better than Dean, though, who only earned Gabriel’s terror, or Cas’, whom Gabriel seemed extremely wary about. Until now, they had avoided taking Mary and Jack to his room.

Mary was already gone, anyway, doing... Sam didn’t know what she was doing, actually. She had emerged from the Rift only two days before and yet, she had already left with Ketch to do Chuck knows what unfinished business. Sam only hoped said business involved Asmodeus’ death. Jack, on the other hand, was extremely happy to spend all his time with Cas’ and Dean.

Not that Sam complained. Gabriel needed him, so Sam was there for him, that was as simple as that. Everyone in the bunker seemed to understand that, even Mary, who had hated the idea of having yet another angel – let alone an Archangel – in the family.

Sam wouldn’t have liked the idea either if that had been Michael or Raphael or Lucifer. But it was Gabriel. It was different.

Sometimes, Sam felt like he would never manage to heal Gabriel.

The worst thing was his eyes. He had this look – like a hunted animal, or a slave waiting for the next blow, or an abused child. It was as if Gabriel always thought he was making a mistake that would earn him a whipping and a night in a dark closet without food or water. Worst thing was, it was probably was Asmodeus had done to him.

Sometimes, it was as if Gabriel didn’t even recognize them; as if he saw his gaoler in every one of them. He behaved like a caged animal, like a deer in headlights. No matter how many reassuring words Sam spoke, or how soft and kind he was, it had no effect whatsoever on Gabriel. The Archangel looked even more frightened, if that was possible, and warier.

To see his friend in such a state broke Sam’s heart. Gabriel wasn’t this suffering, fearful creature. Gabriel was a mischievous prankster who loved sweets, he was powerful, clever, curious, flirtatious, a bit insistent but loving, dedicated, sarcastic, funny, inventive – Sam could have written a whole encyclopedia about Gabriel.

A movement caught Sam’s eye. Gabriel was wiggling ever so slightly in the bed, waking up from a heavy sleep. Sam stood up and walked towards the bed, worried. This time, though, when he met Gabriel’s eye – his golden eye that was so dark these days – he wasn’t welcomed with wild terror, but with pain and distress.

The fact that Sam was relieved to see that was a good indicator of how horrible the situation was.

“Hey,” he smiled. “Slept well?”

Gabriel didn’t answer; he just looked around, seemingly lost.

Sam was about to explain where he was, since he obviously had no recollection of the previous days, when his phone rang. ROWENA, the screen displayed.

“Sorry, gotta answer that,” he said.

When he came back in the room, Gabriel looked a little calmer and less lost. His memories had certainly come back to him. Sam sat on the bed next to him, glad that Gabriel didn’t seem afraid of their proximity.

“Good news,” he said, unable to stop smiling. “It was Rowena – she’s a friend of ours, a witch. She found out what spells _he_ used to hurt you and take away your Grace. And – she knows how to heal you.”

Gabriel’s eyes lightened up a little. Sam felt like he could finally have hope.

* * *

“I’ve made food for you,” Sam declared when he entered Gabriel’s room holding a tray of food.

Gabriel looked at him grimly.

“I’m serious, Gabe,” Sam insisted. “You’ve been fed intravenously for five days. Don’t you want us to take off that damn needle from your arm?”

Gabriel shivered and nodded.

“That’s what I thought.”

Sam hated sticking the needle under his skin anyway. But the crises of the first had given them very little choice: they couldn’t feed Gabriel correctly, and had finally decided to do as Dean suggested and have Castiel steal glucose bags from a nearby hospital. Jack had tagged along and had found nothing else to do than to heal a few ill children in his wake. A faith group had formed in the State ever since, its members claiming that the Messiah had come back under the guise of an ingenuous teenager who asked reporters whether God was famous.

Sam helped Gabriel up in the best. Rowena’s info had been useful, which had left Sam relieved as he had never been before. Gabriel’s state had improved in the last two days. His injuries still re-opened frequently and were far from healed – that would require time – but they were less terrible than before. Moreover, Gabriel no longer had fever, which was a huge improvement. Even though he still had moments of terror during which he had difficulty remember where he was and who they were, Sam had a feeling they couldn’t expect more than that.

Sam laid down the tray on Gabriel’s knees. He had made a spinach soup, because he knew it would be the easiest thing for Gabriel to swallow down. According to Cas’, Gabriel’s larynx and lungs were severely damaged. He wouldn’t be able to swallow correctly before some time, and would need a few weeks before being able to speak again.

“Don’t even try,” Sam said. “No candy.”

Was it the shadow of a smile he just saw on Gabriel’s lips?

Anyhow, Gabriel didn’t protest. He ate – slowly, weakly, his body shivering because of the hurt organs and the broken fingers, but he ate.

That was a good sign.

* * *

The week passed slowly, only punctuated by Sam’s nursing.

He was the only one taking care of the Archangel. Castiel came over regularly and helped Sam out, but the hunter was devoted to his mission. Dean couldn’t take care of Gabriel anyway, and Cas’, as well-intentioned as he was, didn’t really know human needs – and Gabriel, without his Grace, needed to be treated as a human being.

“Don’t you think you’re a little over the top?” Dean asked one day, rather grumpily.

“Gabriel needs help,” Sam retorted, unwavering.

“I’m not saying he doesn’t. I just think you could let Cas’ take care of it.”

“Cas’ takes care of Gabriel,” Sam protested.

As a matter of fact, Cas’ was the perfect little brother, and Sam knew Gabriel was happy of that.

“But you do most of the work,” Dean objected.

“So what?”

“Well, Cas’ is Gabriel’s brother. Who are _you_ for Gabriel?”

It stung, but as Sam didn’t knew why it did, he chose not to show it.

“Gabriel sacrificed his life for us. It’s only normal we help him when he needs us to.”

“Yes, well, he’s not dead, apparently, so –”

“No, he was tortured by Asmodeus instead.”

The reply was efficient, because Dean dropped it. For a time.

“What I mean is that we don’t see you anymore these days,” he said later. “You don’t have to spend all your time with Gabriel, you know.”

“He _needs_ _help_ , Dean!”

“Once again, Samantha, I’m not saying he doesn’t! I’m just saying there are other people who could take care of him.”

“Like you?”

“Or Cas’.”

“Gabriel needs human care,” Sam said back. “Cas’ doesn’t know a lot about those things. Also, I’m not sure he would know how to do most of what I do. No offense, Cas’.”

“None taken,” Cas’ answered seriously. “Dean, I think Sam is right.”

He _was_. Sam took care of Gabriel in every possible way, which was a lot. He cooked his meals, changed his bandages, performed the rituals required for him to heal, researched the missing ingredients to cure him (although the whole Bunker helped with that one), cleaned him, helped him to eat, watched over him at night.

Truth be told, Sam wasn’t entirely honest. Cas’ could have taken care of it all if Sam showed him how to do it. Dean could have helped as well. Even Jack could have.

But Sam didn’t want to delegate the task to other people. The mere idea of letting others take care of Gabriel in his stead disgusted him. Gabriel needed _someone_ – a person who cared about him and ensured his well-being and kept him safe, and Sam wanted to be that person. He _knew_ that this task was his, that _he_ should be the one to carry it out.

Perhaps that was because his and Gabriel’s relationship was deeper than Gabriel and Dean’s. After all, Sam had really wanted to be allies when the Apocalypse came near – even after that, actually. They had gotten along well, at the beginning, before Sam knew he was the Trickster. Gabriel’s death had been difficult for him as well. On the contrary, Dean had always despised and hated Gabriel’s guts. But Sam could understand the Archangel.

And then, when Gabriel had reappeared, Dean had run into another world with Ketch of all people. It was Sam who had started nursing Gabriel back to health, and he intended to carry on.

He had let Gabriel down once. It wouldn’t happen ever again.

“Furthermore,” Castiel added, “Sam and Gabriel have bonded. Gabriel trusts Sam and Sam knows what Gabriel needs. I don’t think it would be wise to break or weaken that bond, Dean.”

Sam could only bless the day Cas’ had joined their family. Castiel understood things, contrary to other peopel.

Sam knew very well that the bond he had with Gabriel was fragile and that it was easy to break. Sam was content to strengthen it. Gabriel needed someone he could trust blindly, someone who wouldn’t betray him.

Castiel looked at Dean knowingly. Sam couldn’t hope to ever understand their encrypted conversations. Anyway, this time, Dean narrowed his eyes at Castiel and sighed, overcome with the power of Castiel’s arguments, whatever they were.

“Go back to your Archangel, then.”

Sam nearly argued, but he had won that battle. It wouldn’t be wise to restart the war.

* * *

If daytime was a-okay, Sam couldn’t say the same was true of nighttimes.

After a few days, Sam had relented and set up a mattress on the ground next to Gabriel’s bed. His back was sore from sleeping in the chair.

Actually, he hadn’t even slept the first few nights, but when things had gotten better, he had started nodding off against his will. In spite of that, he didn’t feel like letting Gabriel alone at nights. This was the only thing Dean and he agreed on: instead of shutting himself into disapproving silence, Dean had declared that Sam was right and had even offered to watch over Gabe if need be, even though Gabriel’s expression at this exact moment was enough for them to conclude it was not a good idea.

Sam didn’t know whether it was because Gabriel loathed the idea of sleeping next to Dean, or if it was because the Archangel wanted _Sam_ to do it.

Cas’ had tried sleeping next to Gabriel, but the Archangel hadn’t slept the whole night.

Not that it bothered Sam, actually.

Having Sam next to him even seemed to comfort Gabriel somehow. Sam sometimes saw him check whether Sam was still there, next to him, and hadn’t left. This fear of abandonment broke Sam’s heart, even though he had no intention to let Gabriel on his own.

Gabriel usually had difficulty falling asleep. He seemed terrified by the mere idea of sleeping, which was something Sam understood oh so very well. So Sam told him stories to help him sleep. He told him about their funniest hunts – his and Becky’s wedding, Garth’s shojo demon, Charlie and Oz, the fan musical – or stories about his youth, or simply what had happened in the Bunker recently.

Gabriel looked like he liked these stories. But when he eventually fell asleep, he was peaceful but for a time. After a handful of hours, he was assaulted with nightmares.

Sam always woke up when he heard Gabriel toss, hiss or cry in the bed.

That night, though, it was an agonizing scream that woke him up.

He should have been glad that Gabriel had his voice back, but honestly, he didn’t have the heart to care about that.

As usual, Sam left his bed quickly and climbed up Gabriel’s bed, shaking his shoulder lightly.

“Gabe! Gabe, wake up!”

Gabriel startled awake, screaming and gasping.

“Hush, hush,” Sam whispered, leaning closer. “Everything’s gonna be okay.” He started rubbing Gabriel’s back – it had become easier ever since his wounds had started disappearing. “It was just a nightmare. It wasn’t real. I’m here, don’t worry.”

Gabriel’s whole body was shaking. He was crying, curled up on the bed. Sam hated seeing him like that, hated seeing just how much Asmodeus had broken him.

He wished he could do so much more to help Gabriel.

The only thing he could give him was the help and support he hadn’t had when he had had to fight similar demons.

When Gabriel shook against him, crying against his chest and making his t-shirt wet with tears while holding on to Sam as if his life depended on it, Sam could only hug him back and whisper that everything was okay, that Sam protected him, that he had nothing to fear. His heart broke every time, but what else could he do?

After what seemed like hours, Gabriel eventually dozed off again, snuggled against Sam as if the hunter was his teddy bear. Even though Sam almost suffocated, he didn’t have it in him to leave Gabriel’s arms. He had a feeling that if he tried, Gabriel would go to unexpected lengths to keep him close. It was as if Sam was an anchor of sorts – a kind of protector, maybe.

He didn’t mind. It was the least he could do. He would have loved having that too.

* * *

After a few weeks, Sam was glad to see that Gabriel was getting better, at least physically. His wounds had almost disappeared, and even though the scars and the pain remained, Gabriel’s overall state was encouraging.

His Grace still wasn’t back and the Archangel still didn’t speak, and neither did he speak or relax or stopped fearing unforeseen moves and noises. Still, Sam thought things were improving. Gabriel could take care of himself now, even though the nightmares still haunted him.

After walking him back and forth in the corridor for a few days, Sam decided that time had come for Gabriel to tour the Bunker.

“Would you like to see where you live now, Gabe?” he asked one day.

Gabe looked surprised by the suggestion but nodded.

He needed help to walk and they had to go slowly, but it was enough to go around the place.

Sam showed him the main room first, then the library where they found Dean and Castiel doing some research and arguing.

“A good frontal attack is what we need!” Dean was explaining.

“We need strategy, Dean,” Castiel answered, glowering.

“We don’t.”

“We do.”

“I’m an experienced hunter, Cas’.”

“And I’m a millennia-old being, Dean.”

“Yeah, well, attack is the best form of defense.”

“Except that we want to attack, not to defend ourselves, Dean.”

“Then let’s attack!”

“Attacking without a strategy isn’t –”

Sam sighed. “Before you asked,” he whispered to Gabriel, “yes, it’s been eight years, and they still aren’t together.”

Gabriel threw him an incredulous look. It was the first manifestation of the real, old Gabriel Sam had seen ever since he came back. It warmed the hunter’s heart.

“No, they haven’t kissed either. Haven’t slept together either. Nothing’s happened, actually.”

Gabriel shook his head in dismay.

“I know, right? It’s been eight years, Gabe. _Eight years_.”

Gabriel smiled. Holy crap, he smiled, for the first time in what felt like an eternity. Sam had _finally_ managed to make him smile.

The archive and machine rooms weren’t really interesting. However, they found Jack in the kitchen, immersed in the task of cooking a pie – probably to please Dean. The boy was staring at the oven as if it had the answers to all the mysteries that ever were.

“Oh, hi, Sam!” he greeted them, straightening himself and offering them an ingenuous, enthusiastic smile. “Hello!” he said then to Gabriel, just as cheerfully. “We haven’t met yet. I’m Jack Kline.”

“Hello, Jack,” Sam said. “Here is –” He hesitated. “This is your uncle Gabriel.”

Jack’s whole face lightened up like a Christmas tree. “You’re my uncle? I’m glad to meet you, Uncle Gabriel! Are you going to live with us?”

“If Gabriel wants to, then yeah, he will,” Sam answered, clearing his throat.

The Archangel, who had until then stared at Jack with curiosity, sharply turned his head towards Sam – so quickly that Sam heard his neck crack. Gabriel was looking at him with such hope and such wonder that Sam suddenly understood that, all this time, Gabriel had believed – had feared – that they would throw him out eventually, once he was steady on his feet.

“So, huh, Gabriel,” Sam went on, “this is your nephew Jack. He’s, erm, Lucifer’s son. Which he had with a woman.”

“Although I see Castiel as my father,” Jack corrected gravely. “I’m glad to meet you, Uncle Gabriel. I’m happy to have an uncle. I mean, I already have Sam and Dean but they’re more like older brothers.”

Gabriel was staring incredulously at Sam again. The hunter could see a million questions in his eyes – _Lucifer? Isn’t he in the Cage? He had a child? A Nephilim child? He slept with a human woman? And you’re looking after his son? He sees Castiel as his father? And how come Lucifer’s son is so – so –_

“That’s a long story,” Sam answered. “I’ll tell you all about it. But until then, you two should get along. Jack loves _Scooby Doo_ and candy.”

“Especially nougat,” Jack explained in a very serious tone. “I also said that I liked cocaine once, but it was a lie. It doesn’t look very good.”

Gabriel blinked, probably wondering whether he was dreaming.

“As I said, that’s a long story,” Sam went on. “Oh, and speaking about _Scooby Doo_ , I should take you to Dean’s room - his Deancave, as he calls it. Once, he brought a TV there, and we were sucked into an episode of _Scooby Doo_. We thought it was you, actually. You would have liked it – Cas’ had to team up with Sammy and Scooby.”

Gabriel laughed. It was a miniscule, broken thing, a sound barely audible that lasted an instant only – but it was still a laugh.

Sam couldn’t help but smile.

**Author's Note:**

> Did you like that first chapter? What do you think? Please let me know! :)


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